


A Song for Midwinter

by A_Farnese



Series: Penumbra [15]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Music, Winter, Winter Festival, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Farnese/pseuds/A_Farnese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though it takes everyone's mind off the days' long snowstorm keeping everyone inside, dealing with the crowds and nobles at the Yuletide feast is not the charming distraction Merlin and the others had hoped for. But when he overhears a chance comment about it, Merlin comes up with a solution</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The wind had blown a tempest for nearly a week, bringing endless rain and sleet with it and driving even the hardiest souls into the barren fortress of Tintagel. Except for Elyan, who was cursing his decision to volunteer for this task and spend winter away from Camelot, where it was undoubtedly sunny and beautiful the day before Yule.

' _The things I do for King and Country.'_ He sighed and cursed the ice that kept him from getting a solid hold on the door's latch while his fingers grew more and more numb. He didn't think he would be able to keep hold of the latch if he could grab it, so he settled for pounding on the door instead. Perhaps someone inside would hear, take pity on him, and let him in.

There was a long moment where he didn't hear anything except the howling wind and the far-off waves, but then the latch rattled and the door groaned on its ancient hinges, opening wide enough for a squint-eyed man to peer through. "Oh, it's you!" he called out, bracing himself against the wind as he held the door open for Elyan to come in.

Elyan staggered through the doorway and helped the old man close the door. "Aye, Bert, it's me," he panted.

Bert cackled, his lined face splitting nearly in two as he grinned and moved to help Elyan peel his cloak off. "I 'alf thought you'd fallen off the wall and into the water, long as you were gone. I was dreadin' having to tell Sir Leon the waves ate you up."

"Well, we've put that task off for now, haven't we?" Elyan scrubbed a hand over his hair and face to wipe the water away. The stubble on his cheeks was getting long enough to start itching, but the lack of mirrors made the thought of taking a razor to his jaw unappealing. Or he could see if someone else could, but the thought of asking someone like Bert, with his shaking hands, to hold a blade to his throat was even worse. Perhaps he'd just have to give in to necessity and grow a beard, like most of the other men were.

"That we have, young sir, that we have." Bert made sure the door was firmly latched before he took up his lantern and led the way further into the gatehouse Pynell had exiled Arthur's men to. While the thick walls ensured that they would be warm enough at night, the lack of windows gave it an oppressive air. And it was as far away from Pynell and his men as they could get without camping in the outskirts of the forest. "Though if this storm keep on, we'll have to save ourselves from ourselves. It's no good to have men cooped up like chickens for days on end."

"No, Bert, it's not," Elyan agreed. He cupped his hands and breathed into them as he walked. The pinpricks of feeling rushed back into his fingers as he warmed up, and he winced. "Is Leon waiting for me?"

"Aye. Though what else he'd be doing on a day like this is beyond me. Not like a man can go for a walkabout in here, or practice with a sword without breaking it against the walls. I know his Lordship don't like us king's men, none, but it's nigh on cruelty to keep us out here in this blasted place. Not when there's windows and the like in the keep. I know for a fact they're there, too. The windows, that is. They was full o' stained glass once. I saw them, years ago when I was here with the young master's father, back when Gorlois held it. A beautiful place it was, especially in the evening, in the great hall, with the sunlight shinin' through. Only Camelot's hall was prettier. Though after all the troubles this old place has seen, maybe them windows aren't there anymore."

"I don't think they are," Elyan said. He couldn't remember seeing any stained glass windows, just gaping holes Pynell's men were hastily boarding up before the rains came. "It could be that we got the better end of this bargain. We might not have any windows, but we'll stay warmer without them."

Bert's lips twisted in thought, then he ducked his head in assent. "I suppose you may be right, young sir. Still, it's no good for the men to have naught but firelight this time of year. The days are dark enough as it is. And to be separated from the horses, too. 'Tis an evil fate for men like me."

Elyan might have smiled at the old man's definition of an 'evil fate', except that Bert was a simple man with simple desires. He'd been the stablemaster for Leon's household since before Leon was born, and the horses were his life. The creatures were warm enough where they were and being looked after by competent stableboys, but Leon had insisted that Bert stay in the gatehouse with the men. His aging, arthritic joints locked up in the cold. "With any luck, this storm will pass soon enough," Elyan tried to cheer him up.

"Aye, it will. Just in time for another one to blow up off the sea. 'Tis the way of things," Bert sighed. He knocked on a door, hardly waiting for an answer before he pushed it open. "Sir Elyan's come back, M'Lord."

Leon glanced up from the parchments on his desk and smiled. "Thank you, Bert. Now go on and get yourself to bed. You'd been complaining about your joints all day. You might as well sleep through some of this storm."

"Would that we could sleep through the whole damned thing, M'Lord," Bert said as he bowed and limped away.

"That would be one way to get through it," Elyan said as he dropped into the chair by the fire. "These conditions can't be good for him. Why'd you bring him along?"

"I couldn't stop him. He can still saddle a horse and ride as well as men a third his age, and he's as loyal as Merlin. I could've ordered him to stay at home until I was blue in the face, and he would have followed along anyway." Leon shook his head as he poured Elyan a cup of mulled wine.

"He certainly likes to complain about being here."

"He'd find fault with anything. If it wasn't to do with being stuck in here, it'd be about lazy stableboys or the poor quality of feed for the animals. But he is the best at what he does," Leon said. "Anyway. Did your little quest out into the elements yield anything?"

Elyan sipped his wine, enjoying the warmth and spices for a moment before looking up at Leon. "No, it didn't. And don't say 'I told you so'."

Leon held his hands up in mock surrender. "I wasn't going to. All I said was that the birds weren't likely to be out in this weather."

"And you were right, of course," Elyan grumbled. "I had hoped that, after a week and a half, that we'd have gotten some word from Arthur. Maybe Merlin would have enchanted the birds to fly through the storm."

"He wouldn't do that. For all the power he has, he won't force anyone- or anycreature- to act against their nature. But I can understand your wanting to get out of here for a while, even if it's out into the wind." Leon poured himself a cup of wine. "I think I'll go half-mad if we're forced to stay in here much longer."

Eylan nodded and swiped at his neck. Some bit of ice must have caught on his collar and melted. It ran down his back and sent a chill down his spine. "If we could just get word in or out. It's the waiting for one or the other that bothers me. We came here to keep an eye on Pynell, and with the weather and our being stuck out here, we can't do a damned thing about it."

"If there is a bright side to this storm," Leon said, "it's that Pynell can't do much about his plans, either. If we're stuck, then so is he. Just hold onto that thought."

"As well as I can, with two freezing hands," Elyan said, raising his cup in a toast. "Until then, I'll just have to think about how warm and bright it must be in Camelot right now. It can't be this miserable everywhere, after all."

 

* * *

 

"Do you suppose it's snowing everywhere in the Five Kingdoms? Or are we just the unlucky ones who are doomed to be slowly buried in it?" Elayne pulled the curtains aside and stared out over the courtyard where the wind still howled, and the snow still fell so thickly that it was impossible to see the ground. It made the citadel feel like an island amidst the clouds, a magical castle of the air. "Come springtime, some envoy from Nemeth will wander in and find us all dead and frozen in the snow."

Guinevere laughed as the girl stomped back to the fireside and collapsed back into her chair. Not that she could look angry while she was stomping. She was too slight to make too much noise, no matter how hard she stamped her feet. "And here I thought you were the most cheerful of us. I must have been wrong about that. Ladies, no longer do we have the pleasure of keeping company with Elayne the Bright. No, now we must deal with Elayne the Very Gloomy. Elayne of the Perpetual Snow."

The others laughed, and Elayne looked down at her hands, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't just the warm firelight that put a rosy glow on her cheeks. "Well I don't have anything in particular to keep me occupied like you do. My part in all this is done," she said, gesturing at the length of fabric that Guinevere and Linnet were embroidering with chains of green leaves and red flowers. "If there were another wedding gown I could sew, then I wouldn't feel so useless. But I've finished the sewing, and my embroidery isn't as fine as yours or Linnet's. And I can't even craft holly crowns like Niniane is. So what am I supposed to do?"

"You could take lessons in geography, history, or medicine with Gareth and Erec. I'm sure Merlin wouldn't mind if you listened in," Guinevere said. She had half a mind to do the same thing, if only to alleviate the boredom that four days' enforced idleness had cursed them with. Crafting Linnet's wedding gown gave them something to do, but eventually they would tire of the endless, tiny stitches and decide that tossing the gown out the window would be preferable to embroidering yet another leaf.

Elayne shrugged and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "I wouldn't mind listening in, but Erec's such a… a little _boy_! He's a high-minded brat one minute, and terribly naive the next. And before you all say that I'm naive," Elayne pointed directly at Linnet, "At least I know what goes on between a man and a woman in their bedchambers at night. I don't know whether I should feel sorry for poor Erec, or try to knock some sense into him with a big stick."

"Any son of Lord Pynell is bound to be confused in Arthur's court," Guinevere said.

"I'd actually be inclined to feel sorry for the boy," Linnet said. She didn't look up from her embroidery, but from the tilt of her head and the way she wet her lips, she fully expected one of them to ask her why.

Guinevere rolled her eyes and took the bait. "And why is that?"

"Because of Lady Fira, of course," Linnet said. She tied off a stitch and set about re-threading her needle before she went on. "I hear that she runs Highwood Keep like it's some sort of nunnery, and that she's so strict with the children you'd think they were all criminals instead of nobility. Being here in Camelot is probably the first taste of real freedom the boy's really had, and he's only here because he's the elder son of one of the king's enemies."

"That's why Gareth's here, and he's doing just fine," Guinevere pointed out. "And he's not even from Camelot."

"I think I could find it in myself to feel sorry for him," Niniane spoke up at last. "It's well known that the king and Lord Pynell are rivals. It's not easy to be here, and be seen as an enemy. I know that well enough."

"He's only been here a few weeks," Guinevere said. "Perhaps when he's gotten used to life around the castle, he'll be more open to new things. There seem to be more and more boys his age here at court all the time."

"More political hostages," Linnet said under her breath.

"Hostages that Arthur treats as fairly as any of his knights," Guinevere said. "Gareth is the proof of that. Just look at how he's blossomed since he arrived."

"And look at how much he eats. He's going to be taller than Bedivere if he keeps growing," Niniane said as she wound her last sprig of holly into the crown. She lowered her eyes and waved her hand over the holly crown. Guinevere thought she saw a faint flash of gold in the Druid's eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. "There. Now you'll be a proper Queen of Winter this Yule. The berries are just glass beads, but the real ones were gone when I picked the leaves."

"I'm still jealous that you got to go outside the castle walls before this storm settled in," Guinevere said. "It feels like I've been inside forever. If it hadn't been for the council meetings, I'd have gone with you." Alas that the council hadn't met for the past three days. Even the arguments they had would be preferable to the endless gray days. She and the other women had spent most of the past two days in this room, the Queen's Solar, where the windows faced the south to catch as much light as possible, and that still couldn't chase away the gloom.

"Well, you'll be able to use up some of that pent up energy at the feast tomorrow night," Niniane said, her eyes sparkling at the thought. "I hear there will be dancing and music and all sorts of entertainments."

"Indeed there will," Guinevere smiled at the girl's excitement. Compared to the festivities of previous years, their plans for the next evening were relatively modest. But Niniane didn't need to know that. "Though the weather this year means there will less of a feast than usual, but the rest of the party should make up for that."

"We could be eating old leaves and dried up twigs, for all I care. I'm just interested in the music. I've only heard Gaspar and his troupe play once since they arrived. But they were wonderful!" Niniane hopped up and pulled Elayne to her feet, twirling the younger woman around in circles until Elayne was too dizzy to walk straight.

"I see that your dancing hasn't improved at all," Linnet smirked.

"I don't care about my dancing," Niniane laughed as she helped Elayne find her balance again. "There's going to be warmth and candlelight and music tomorrow! There's no better cure for these dark days than that!"

 

* * *

 

"I don't understand."

Merlin barely kept himself from heaving a weary sigh at Erec's question. It was only the twentieth or so that the boy had asked in the past two hours, and he couldn't figure out if Erec was not paying attention because he had too much pent up energy, or if he was maybe a bit daft. "What don't you understand?"

"The Romans, of course," Erec said. "You said they were powerful. You said they were a great empire, but they were defeated by the Picts, and then they abandoned Prydain altogether. If they were so strong, why couldn't they hold onto their own lands?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gaius smirk, and Gareth's shoulders slumped a little lower. "No one knows the answer to that. Or at least, no one knows all the answers. There's usually no one answer for major events like that, Erec. It was a host of things that brought the Romans down- they had stretched themselves too far to defend against invasions close to Rome, they didn't have a stable government, they couldn't feed all their people. The list could go on and on. But I think that's enough for today," Merlin said.

Gareth brightened and sat up, but Erec frowned and opened his mouth to say something. Merlin spoke up before the boy could. "I think you have entirely too much energy for lessons right now. A consequence of being cooped up for so long. You should bundle up go run around outside, or go see if the knights have chores for you to do. If anything, they'll have stories to tell to keep you occupied." He waved them away with a tired gesture.

"But-"

"Come on," Gareth didn't waste the opportunity to flee and grabbed Erec by the arm to make sure he came along. "He's letting us go. Don't ask questions. Just go," he said, flashing Merlin a smile to show he meant no insult. It took a bit of convincing, but after a few moments, Erec reluctantly followed the taller boy's lead.

Merlin let out a long breath, folded his arms on the table, and laid his head on them. "Why did I ever agree to this?" he asked the table, taking note of the old nicks and scratches, studying them like they were an ancient language that had been forgotten until now. "What do I know about teaching boys about history? Gareth is constantly bored, and Erec hardly believes a word I tell him."

"You're doing just fine," Gaius said, his feet scraping against the floor as he came over to pat Merlin on the shoulder. "You've made more progress with both of them in the past two weeks than I managed to make with Arthur in six months when he was their age."

"Is that a testament to my teaching skills, or a mark against Arthur's intelligence?" Merlin chuckled. He sat up and rubbed at his half-gloves to try to make the itching stop. It had been irritating him all day. There were moments he simply wanted to tear the gloves off and just scratch until the itch went away, or his skin. Whichever came first.

"Perhaps a bit of both. Arthur was never a very careful student." Gaius settled himself into the chair Erec had vacated and held his hands out. "Let me see. Your wrists have been bothering you all day. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I'm sure it's just the dry air," Merlin said. Surely it was that, and had nothing to do with the fact that it was approaching the one-year anniversary of his imprisonment. His burning. His mother's death… He rolled his shoulders to chase away the rest of the aches that flared up at the thought of it all.

"It could be that," Gaius said. He undid the knots and tugged at the lacings until the worn leather coverings came free, revealing the marbled skin circling Merlin's wrists. They had said the flesh had burned away until the bones showed through, that the heat of the shackles had fused skin to metal, tearing chunks of it away when they broke the shackles. They said the sight of it had been enough to make a man retch, but they hadn't lived through it all. There were times his hands still felt weak, like the strength of his grip was far less than it had once been.

"It's better than it was," Gaius said as he turned Merlin's hands over. "It's still healing. Perhaps with time and your magic, it will be like the pyre never happened."

"Perhaps my body will forget it, but it will stay in my dreams forever."

Gaius looked up at him, his sad gaze searching Merlin's face. Merlin refused to meet it, kept staring at the scratches on the old table. "I suppose the worsts beasts are the ones that live in our memories." He opened a jar of some sweet-smelling salve and gently dabbed it on Merlin's wrists. It was cool and soothing, like jumping into a clear pond on a hot summer's day. The itch went away immediately. "At any rate, the Yuletide festivities should brighten your spirits, if only for a night."

"I hope so," Merlin said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so melancholy, it's just-"

"You've faced a lot in the past year." Gaius finished dabbing the salve on Merlin's wrists and started wrapping them with finely woven linen bandages. They'd been packed with lavender, and the scent still clung to them. "There's nothing wrong with feeling low from time to time. It's part of being alive, Merlin. You should know that as well as anyone."

"You mean I _already_ know that better than everyone?"

"I suppose that's true," Gaius said as he tied off and tucked in the ends of the bandages. He brushed a hand over his eyes, suddenly looking wearier than his advancing age would suggest. "I'm sorry. I just very tired all of a sudden."

"You should get some sleep, then. It's probably to do with how early night falls these days. I doesn't help that we're shut up in here because of the snow. If we could just go outside for a while." Merlin shook his head and conjured up the best smile he could find. It didn't feel like it reached his eyes, though. "I'll let you rest while I go find something to do. I haven't seen Arthur all day. He's probably driving everyone a bit mad. He gets tetchy when he's cooped up."

"That he does," Gaius said. He braced his hands against the table to stand up.

Merlin bit his lip to keep from asking if the old physician needed help. He knew the answer would be a resounding 'no', and that Gaius would see it as an affront to his dignity. And as an acknowledgement that age was catching up to him. He couldn't keep up with things as well as he used to, and the cough that had settled into his lungs in the autumn steadfastly refused to leave. But even if his steps were slower, his mind was quick as ever. Neither of them mentioned how Merlin had been taking up the slack in Gaius's duties.

"Sleep well, then. I'll see you tonight," Merlin said as he opened the door and waited for Gaius to shuffle across the room, disappearing behind the screen that hid his bed from view. There was a rumpling of blankets and the creaking of a wooden frame, and it was as quiet as it was going to get. Merlin half-smiled and extinguished the candles with a quick spell and a wave of his hand. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and trudged down the stairs.

There was a certain kind of energy that normally buzzed about the castle a day or two before Yule, a feeling that traced over his skin and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck, like how the air felt moments before a bolt of lightning, when the world held its breath in anticipation of the strike. Merlin felt it still, felt it shiver down his spine when he passed a group of people, whether they were servants or nobles. But it was muted, as though the season's cheer had been buried in a blanket of snow along with the rest of the city.

The decorations were as colorful as ever, with evergreen boughs crowning the archways of the larger hallways while clusters of white candles provided a warm glow against the deepening blues and grays of the evening beyond the windows. Patterns of frost laced across the outside of the glass, as though nature had seen fit to help decorate.

Merlin traced a finger along the jagged swirls the ice crystals had made. A childhood habit, begun before he could remember starting it. He and his mother would pass the evening hours breathing on their tiny glass windows to fog them up before drawing patterns against the frost. Sometimes the waning sunlight would hit the panes just so and send tiny rainbows into the darkening room to dance across their faces. It had always been the simplest things that they had cherished the most. Ephemeral things, here and gone again like the flash of a falling star.

It was his first Yule without her. Of course he had been away from Hunith for years before this, but he had always known she was there in Ealdor, drawing shapes among the frost and thinking of him as she cooked a simple Yuletide meal.

And now she was gone, burned and buried next to his father.

His hand dropped to his side and looked at his wavering reflection in the glass. It was old and thick and imperfect, distorting his face though his eyes stared back at him with an intensity he was unfamiliar with. Behind him, a group of candles burned brightly, ringing his visage with a fiery glow until Merlin was certain he smelled smoke. The remembered buzz of the mob rose along with the smoky memories.

Merlin spun away from the window, swallowing back the bile that rising in his throat. _'I don't remember what happened at Blackheath,_ ' was his refrain whenever anyone brought the subject up- a rare occurrence these days. But sometimes, a memory would surface, unbidden, summoned by some everyday happening- the scent of candle smoke, a certain pitch of a rough voice, the sickening tang of iron in the back of his throat from the scent of blood or a blacksmith's forge.

Someday, perhaps, he would leave that dark cell behind him. He hadn't managed it yet.

He hurried up the stairs toward Arthur's chambers. A pair of guards stood on either side of the hall. They leaned against the wall, keeping watch even as they relaxed and talked quietly about castle gossip. Merlin could see it in the way they straightened ever so slightly at his approach, their fingers tightening around sword hilts, and eyes watching his every movement for signs of treachery. He gave them a pleasant smile and passed them by. Maybe someday they wouldn't regard him with those suspicious looks, but for now he had to endure it.

"Arthur?" he knocked on the door and waited a moment, his senses already reaching out to find the king. It was an unconscious action, one he did a hundred times a day without thinking of it, stretching out with his magic to find Arthur. Like flowers whose blossoms follow the sun across the sky, his mind naturally gravitated to wherever Arthur was.

And Arthur was in his chambers, though he didn't answer. Merlin opened the door anyway, being careful to rattle the latch and let the hinges squeak, just to alert Arthur. If he was paying attention.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked again. He let the door bang shut behind him. His gaze wandered about the darkened room, finally finding the king staring out the window with his arms folded across his chest. "Have you left this room at all today?"

"Hm?" Arthur tilted his head toward Merlin. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd left your room today?" Merlin said. He moved to pick up the clothes that had been left lying about since George was last there, and straightened the papers on the desk. The oldest habits died hardest of all.

"No. I've been…" Arthur shook his head. "I've been lost in thought."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. It's- nothing." He turned away from the window with a frustrated sigh. "It's been nearly two weeks since we heard anything from Leon, Elyan, or any of the spies I sent to Tintagel. I can't help but wonder if it's the weather that keeps them silent, or if something's happened to them."

Merlin ladeled out a cup of mulled wine from the pot simmering over the fire. The sweet scent was enough to drive the smoke out of his mind. "Surely Pynell couldn't have found _all_ your agents. You only sent a few dozen of them."

Arthur smirked humorlessly. "Not quite that many. And you're probably right. He couldn't have found them all. It's just the snow keeping them from sending messages." He didn't sound completely convinced of it, though. "I don't suppose you can…" he waved his fingers in the air above his head.

"I can't tell what the weather's like over Tintagel with a wave of my hand. It takes a lot more effort than that," Merlin said, smiling faintly as he handed Arthur the wine. "Even I can only see so far. Have faith in your men. They're smart, capable, and perfectly able to take care of themselves. You wouldn't have sent them otherwise."

Arthur half-collapsed in a chair by the table and sipped his wine. "I suppose you're right," he said reluctantly. "But I can't help but wonder. What are they doing? What's stopping them from communicating? What does Pynell have planned? There are too many questions, and not enough answers. I don't suppose…" he trailed off and looked up at Merlin. "You haven't _seen_ anything have you?"

"No." Merlin shook his head. "I haven't had any visions. None of my dreams have been… unusual." Nothing out of the ordinary for him of late, just winding forest paths and twisted trees. When they weren't filled with the scent of smoke. "But if that changes, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate it," Arthur said. He rested his chin in his palm and turned the cup around and around in his other hand. "I hate not knowing."

"I think everyone hates that," Merlin said. "Although, sometimes I think knowing is worse than not knowing." He raked his fingers through his hair and turned away, opening a cabinet to retrieve a particular wooden box.

It had been a wedding present to Arthur and Guinevere- from King Urien, of all people. Whether the chess set had been meant purely as a gift, or if was meant to be some sort of message, Merlin couldn't decide. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. The board was inlaid with squares of black and white marble, while the pieces themselves were delicately carved from pale ash and ebony wood. The set's creator had put hours and hours of painstaking effort into his work, and it showed both in its appearance and the feeling of it.

"That's the problem with the future, I suppose," Arthur said. "It's awful not to know what's going to happen in situations like this, but it must be just as bad when you _do_ know and you're just waiting for the hammer to fall."

"That's been my experience," Merlin said as he laid out the chess pieces on the board, with the black pieces in front of him while the white ones went to Arthur.

"What happened to your hands?" Arthur asked sharply, perhaps moreso than he intended.

Merlin glanced down at the bandages around his wrists. "Nothing. It's the dry air was bothering…" he couldn't bring himself to say _my scars_. He hated admitting the weakness, that they still bothered him, both physically and mentally. Besides that, admitting that his wrists itched would force him to acknowledge that the rest of the scar tissue itched like mad, too. He had almost managed to put aside the desire to scratch off every bit of skin from his back and his legs. "Anyway. Gaius put a salve on my wrists, and I forgot to put the gloves on. Nothing more nefarious than that. First move is yours."

Arthur gave him an appraising look, then turned his attention to the chessboard. "I still don't understand why you insist on playing this game. You beat me four games out of five."

"And you're beginning to be a far more gracious loser than ever before," Merlin said as he moved a pawn forward in answer to Arthur's opening move. "But really, you're the one who should be winning. You're the strategic one."

Arthur snorted and covered his mouth to hide his laughter.

"What?"

"It's nothing. Just something from a long time ago." Arthur's smile lingered as he turned his attention to the chessboard, fingers twitching as he mapped out this move or that. He finally reached out and moved one of his knights so it threatened one of Merlin's rooks. "Why does Niniane call you 'Emrys'?"

Merlin knocked one of his pawns over. Then he knocked another one down trying to set the first one upright again. "Um. Well. It's what the Druids call me. In their own language, anyway. It's part of one of their prophecies."

"Another prophecy? And all about you. You must be very important, then, to have a prophecy all to yourself and a second name, too." Arthur raised an eyebrow and moved his bishop halfway across the board to take out one of Merlin's knights.

"A lot of people have two names, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin said as he pondered the layout of the game. There was a deceptively easy way to remove Arthur's queen from the board, but that was a trap. If he fell for it, he would leave his own king open to being captured. He slid a rook across the squares to threaten one of Arthur's knights. "And the prophecy isn't so much about me as it is you."

"Is that so? Does it make any more sense than your visions?" Arthur asked. His move was a quick one, pushing a pawn one space forward.

Merlin frowned, trying to ferret out the reasoning behind that simple move that did not appear to do anything that he could comprehend. "They call you the Once and Future King, and say that you're to bring about the golden age of Albion," he said absently.

"A golden age?" Arthur's gaze went distant for a moment, thoughtful, as though trying to figure out how in the world he could accomplish such a thing. Then he huffed a laugh and smiled as he moved another pawn. "Then what's your role in all of this? Court jester?"

Merlin folded his hands and rested his chin on them as he tried to figure out Arthur's strategy. "I'm meant to protect you," he muttered, finally settling on a course of action. He moved his queen forward. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm playing chess." Arthur said. He moved another pawn forward. "Check."

"What? How?" Merlin looked at the board, confused. Arthur's pawns stood in a triangular formation that Merlin hadn't seen until he moved his queen out of the way. Now his king was nearly trapped with only one move to make, and even that wouldn't make a difference. He sighed and moved his king back one space. Not that it could change anything.

"Checkmate," Arthur said, a triumphant grin spread across his face as he tipped the little black king over.

"You distracted me!"

"It's called strategy, Merlin. Even you think I'm good at that," Arthur laughed.

"Well." Merlin sank against the back of the chair and rubbed at his wrist. "I guess I have to admit that. I'll keep your tactics in mind for next time."

"I'll just have Niniane play in my stead. It wouldn't matter if she didn't know how to play. You wouldn't be able to stop staring at her, so I'd win by default."

A slow burn rose in Merlin's cheeks. He ducked his head to hide it, but Arthur laughed anyway. "I suppose I'll have to have Gwen sit in next time, then. You'd spend the game staring at her, and I would win."

"Or we could just let the ladies play. That would be an interesting spectacle."

"Not for long," Merlin said. "Gwen would win every time."

"You might be right about that," Arthur said with a fond smile.

"There are no 'might bes'. She would win. She'd probably beat you, too. Gwen's a lot smarter than you are," Merlin said. He set the pieces back into their proper places. If Arthur wanted another go at it, they'd play. Otherwise the board would wait for another dreary day.

"It's good to hear you think my wife is smarter than I am. I hope that doesn't mean you think I'm a complete idiot." Arthur scowled and sat back in his chair, arms crossed, with a smile threatening to spread across his face.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Your wife _is_ smarter than you. She has a lot more sense than most people I've met. Myself included."

"I'll give you that much, then. You make absolutely no sense most of the time, Merlin." Arthur glanced out the window, where the snow still fell. "But by the by, when is it going to stop snowing?"

"You think I can control the weather?"

"You have before."

Merlin took a breath to dispute the point, then stopped. "You have a point. But I don't intend to ever do that again. As for the snow?" He shrugged. "Another day? Maybe two? I honestly don't know. It will stop when it's ready to stop. That's the best answer I have."

"Hmph. Well, if you can pick any answers out of the air, will you let me know? I'm looking forward to the end of this bloody storm." Arthur launched himself out of the chair and set to pacing toward the window and back again.

"So am I. Still, it's better than being stuck out in the cold for days on end like last year," Merlin said, thinking back to the days they had spent on the road to Blackheath under a clear and frigid sky, and the nights spent listening to the icy wind howling endlessly. At least this Yule would be spent indoors where it was warm.

"I suppose there is that," Arthur said faintly. He stopped suddenly, his restless energy gone as still as the air before a lightning strike. His gaze fixed on the fire in the hearth. He shuddered, then shook himself out of his fugue before all but pouncing on the chessboard. "Let's play again."

Merlin nodded, keeping his eyes on the game as Arthur pondered his first moves, studiously avoiding looking over his shoulder at the fire. Or at the candles. Or at their reflection in the glass. His own memories had been of ice and wind just then, but Arthur's must have been of fire.

"You know I'm not going anywhere tomorrow," Merlin said softly. Arthur resisted looking up at him. His lips were drawn into a tight line. "Not going anywhere at all. Not even to Mass."

Arthur snorted and knocked over one of his pawns. "You act like I expected you to be there. I don't think wild horses could drag you into the chapel."

"Not without a lot of fuss."

"At least I know you'll be at the feast tomorrow night," Arthur said as he moved a knight forward and took one of Merlin's pawns from the board.

"Why's that?"

"Because Niniane will be there," Arthur grinned. "And wherever she goes, so go you."

' _Perhaps,'_ Merlin mused. Given the chance, he would spend his time with her. As much of it as he could, if only so he could hear as much of her laughter as he could to keep the memories of it reserve for darker days. But if the time arose, and he had to choose between Arthur and Niniane, he knew which way he would go. He was Arthur's, through and through.


	2. Chapter 2

The Yuletide feast was as splendid as anyone could have hoped for. The great hall was filled to the brim with Camelot's finest nobles, guild leaders, ambassadors, clergy, and all the servants necessary to attend upon such folk. Strains of bright music hung in the air, courtesy of the Breton minstrel and his troop that Arthur had invited to stay through the winter. The songs lightened as the evening progressed, the bright rhythms drawing people to dance as much as the wine that lowered their inhibitions.

Arthur stayed in his seat, content to watch over his people as they celebrated, and keeping an eye on who talked to who, and which couples danced the most. Taking note of who refused to dance, who glared daggers at rivals, and who was oblivious to it all. Feasts and balls, he had learned, were as much about politics as they were about celebrations and it behooved a king to keep abreast of factions and rivalries.

The food was good, too.

He swirled a goblet of wine around and around while he watched, taking a sip now and then. It was sweet and well-watered, and he drank it more to keep up appearances than for the taste. And re-filling it gave George something to do now and then. Try as he might, he couldn't dismiss the ever-present servant. He was starting to wonder if George was so adamant about remaining at his side because he was devoted to his job, or if it had something to do with the quality of the music. Perhaps it was a little of both.

Arthur sipped at the wine again as he sought out certain faces in the crowd. There was Guinevere in the middle of the dance floor, her crimson skirts swirling about as she spun through the ranks of dancers along with the other ladies of the court. The maneuvers seemed too precise and intricate for such drunken revelries, but none of the women were bothered by it. A few of the men had tripped over their own feet, but that was to be expected.

On the far side of the floor, Lancelot smiled at Elayne as the dance brought them together again. The young woman couldn't conceal her happiness, and why even bother? A dozen or more other ladies stared her down, unconcealed jealousy on their faces. And no wonder. Lancelot might have been common born and a foreigner to boot, but on a night like this any girl could seek the company of any young man on the dance floor. Arthur had heard more than one woman coo over the knight's handsome face. But Lancelot's dances had been reserved for a dazzled Elayne, a laughing and stumbling Niniane, and even Guinevere herself.

And there, in an out of the way shadow, Merlin was propping a wall up, his arms folded over his chest. Dressed in gray and black, he blended in with his surroundings, though Arthur knew that that wasn't the only reason the sorcerer was being left alone. Even after all this time people were still leery of his presence in Camelot, though they tended to simply avoid him these days rather than hurl threats or stones at him. Still, he looked worn out, even from this distance.

He looked up as though the king had called out to him. Arthur gestured for him to come over. "You should be out there dancing. It's the night for it," he said once Merlin had threaded his way through the crowd.

"I don't know the steps," Merlin said. "But you do, and your wife is dancing with another man."

"I hardly have to worry about Gwaine these days," Arthur said, though he still kept an eye on how the knight smiled and bowed to Guinevere as they paced through the intricate turns of the dance. "He has his own betrothed to think about."

Linnet watched the knight and the queen, too, a thoughtful smile on her face as she turned about and held a slender hand out to the guildmaster she was momentarily paired with. Her eyes hardly left Gwaine, though.

"True," Merlin said. "He's loyal to the end, once you've earned it. But you should be out there. People will think it's strange if the king doesn't dance with the queen at least once. You know how gossip spreads."

"I do," Arthur said, biting back a scowl. Even now, certain ladies were whispering together as they took note of Guinevere's dancing partners. He sighed. He knew the steps to the courtly dances, of course, and to many of the so-called peasant dances as well. Such things were part of every prince's education. That didn't mean he liked it. "After this one ends, then. I'll put up with it."

Merlin smiled at this small triumph, though the shadows under his eyes only deepened.

"Are you alright? You look tired," Arthur said.

"I'm fine," was the curt response. And the expected one. Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin, and the sorcerer sighed. "I've never liked being under the court's watchful eye. All these people who are… afraid of me. Or who hate me, it's… uncomfortable. And very loud." He brushed a hand over his eyes.

"You don't have to stay here, you know. These things aren't required of anyone."

"We both know that's not true." Merlin almost smiled. "Kings and servants alike are beholden to the ones they serve. Besides that, do you really think I'm going to let them drive me away?" He nodded in the direction of a group of nobles scowling at him.

"I suppose not," Arthur said. Under his gaze, they wilted and turned to find other sources of gossip. "We'll just have to endure, then, and make the most of it."

"Feasts are meant to be enjoyed, not endured."

"Now who's deluding himself?" Arthur said archly. "You've _endured_ every feast you've been to in Camelot. It doesn't take magic to tell that you don't like them."

"I've been through worse," Merlin said. His back straightened and his shoulders twitched. Arthur could only imagine what sorts of memories were swirling around in that head of his.

"I think we've all been through worse things that a feastday," Arthur said, his voice brightening as he tried to lighten the mood. "Anyway. If you don't want to be here, or if there's something else you need to be doing, then go. That's an order, if you'd bother following it."

Merlin smirked. "As long as you dance with Guinevere."

"That's a suggestion I can follow without qualms," Arthur said. He rose and walked around the table, reaching the dance floor as the music reached its end. The crowd fell silent save for the rustling of clothing as everyone hurried to clear the floor and bow or curtsey as the same time.

Within moments, Guinevere was alone in the middle of the room, a smile spreading across her face as she approached Arthur. "Your Majesty," she said, dropping a graceful curtsey even as she reached out to him.

"My Lady," Arthur said and kissed her hand, half-bowing to her in return. They straightened, standing close to each other in the quiet. Then he winked at her. "Gaspar!" he called out to the musician, "play a Volta."

Guinevere's eyes widened in surprise but she mastered herself quickly, allowing only a tiny smile to play about her lips. All around them, the whispers rose as the first strains of music rose into the air.

The Volta had migrated north from far, far away. Arthur never found out where Morgana had learned the dance. Uther had considered it too lewd for his court, and yet Morgana had found someone who knew it and conned them into teaching it to her. Then she had taught Arthur. And Guinevere. And then talked them into practicing it together so she could make sure they both knew the proper forms, all of it in secret. Just like the lessons in swordplay he had given her.

Uther wouldn't have approved of Morgana's knowledge of the sword anymore that he would have approved of her knowing the Volta. It had felt so dangerous, this hidden knowledge of a dance and a weapon. They had been so much younger then- Guinevere was merely a shy lady's maid, he had been a prat of a prince, and Morgana had been innocent. But that had all been years ago, when they were hardly more than children.

Still, he remembered the Volta and its twists and turns, and where on Guinevere's back he needed to put his hand to raise her up. How to step so he wouldn't catch her skirts, and on which beat she would jump so he could raise her higher than anyone else in the room, just as he had done at her coronation.

Guinevere was light as a feather in his arms, like a bird ready to take flight and he was the one keeping her earthbound. And while he sensed that everyone in the room was watching them, the only thing he could see was Guinevere gazing back at him.

' _Let anyone try to whisper about discord between us now.'_

 

* * *

 

Merlin lingered in the great hall until the buzz had died down about the dance Arthur had chosen. He hardly knew what a Volta was, or why everyone was reacting to it with shocked expressions. The most conservative courtiers were as wide-eyed as if Merlin had walked to up them and explained, in great detail, the Druids' Beltane fertility rituals. But they had a right to their opinions, and Arthur and Guinevere hardly noticed. They looked only at each other, ignoring everything else as surely as if it had all disappeared while they danced.

He smiled and slipped out of the hall. He'd had his fill of the feast and the celebration though he hadn't been a part of it, choosing to while away the hours at the edges. Just watching. Waiting. There was no sense of danger tonight, no impending doom. Even the storm clouds outside were beginning to thin, though he sensed there would be more snow tomorrow.

The hallways were lit as brightly as ever. And while the guards still patrolled the corridors, no one could blame them if their toes tapped in time to the echoes of the music. Yule was a time for celebration, after all.

Even for Merlin, though he hardly felt like celebrating.

His fingers trailed along the wall, the rough stone grounding him in the present while his mind wandered through the corridors and out into the winter night. It was quiet there, without all the people pressing in around him with their whispers and the heaviness of their thoughts rumbling like thunder from a storm on the horizon.

He hurried down the stairs. A courtyard door beckoned him to the peace of the trees and slumbering flowers. Snow had covered the path and kept the door from opening, but it was easy to clear it away with a whisper of magic.

Merlin stepped outside and took a deep breath. The air was icy cold, but it cleared his head and washed away the residue of so many souls brushing against his. For him, Camelot was a crowded place, even if he was alone in a room.

He drew in a long breath and let it out just as slowly as he looked skyward. Stars peered through the breaks in the clouds, and their faint, celestial music rang through the air. There were no warnings in the notes and no premonitions of doom or otherwise. Somehow, and if only for a night, the world was at peace with itself.

Merlin closed his eyes and listened.

 

* * *

 

Only a few people had climbed the stairs to the gallery above the great hall to watch the goings-on below, and Gwaine was fine with that. The young couple whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears hardly noticed him or Linnet, giving them a warm and relatively quiet place to sit down for a while.

"So what do you think the gossips will be on about tomorrow?" Linnet asked. "They wouldn't stop talking about how the king and queen weren't dancing, and if it meant there were troubles between them. Then His Majesty up and calls for a Volta. Didn't _that_ just ruffle their feathers and make them squawk like a bunch of angry old hens?"

Gwaine laughed at the image that conjured, of chickens done up in silks and fine jewels. "I'm sure there's nothing that the old hens wouldn't gossip about, even if Guinevere had been a noble lady and heir to half a kingdom."

"This is true. But she carries herself like the queen she is. If you didn't know any better, you'd say she was born to rule."

"And I'd say where you're born shouldn't dictate what you can become," Gwaine said.

"Indeed," Linnet drew out the second syllable. She made a show of looking out over the gathering below them but her gaze turned sidewards, her dark eyes appraising him. "You dance very well for a commoner."

Gwaine's eyebrows went up at the change in topic. "The steps aren't that difficult. Any idiot could pick them up."

"But any idiot hasn't picked them up." Linnet gave him a scathing look. "Unless you're prepared to call Niniane stupid. Elayne's been trying to teach her the basic steps for days, and she still stepped on Lancelot's toes half a dozen times. So I have to wonder. Just where did Sir Gwaine, one of the king's common-born knights learn the steps to the courtly dances. I bet it wasn't in the tavern where His Majesty found you."

"Ah, no."

"I thought not." Linnet turned back to watch the dancing. The light from below limned her face, catching in her artfully tousled curls and outlining her lips. Gwaine wanted very much to kiss those lips just then. "It's another piece in the puzzle that you are," she said before he could so much as lean toward her.

"What puzzle is that?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. He snapped his mouth shut on whatever ill-advised comment might have popped out next. "You," she said. "You're very strange sometimes. You wear the guise of a rogue like a comfortable old cloak, but sometimes it slips and there's someone else underneath. Someone who knows how this game works."

Gwaine licked his lips and did his best to hide his growing unease. "What game would that be?"

"The game of the courtier, of course. The political game we wrap ourselves up in so tightly it's nearly impossible to get ourselves back out of again." Linnet looked at him over her shoulder, Her mouth was hidden behind the high collar of her gown, but the crinkling around her eyes suggested a smile. "But you seem to have gotten yourself out of it before, Sir Knight. Where did you come from before you came to Camelot?"

"All over the place," he began, stopping when her eyebrows started to knit together in an irritated line. "That's the truth, Linnet. Before I came to Camelot, I wandered all over the Five Kingdoms. I even thought about crossing the sea to Eire, just to see what was over that horizon. Then one day I was in a country bar and these two fellows got themselves in a nasty fight, and I ended up here. After a bit." He gave her a smile that quickly fled when he thought back farther than than a handful of years ago. "But before all that, when I was too young to remember, my father was a knight in Caerleon's army. He died in battle, and when my mother went to the king to collect what was owed to her as a war widow, he refused to pay, leaving us penniless."

Linnet's eyes widened, but whether it was due to shock or outrage, he couldn't tell.

"We got by," Gwaine shrugged it off as though it were nothing. "Though when she was old enough, my sister married a man she didn't love to keep herself fed. I don't think she ever forgave herself for it. She got bitter and old before her time. I was old enough to hold my own in a fight when my mother died of a fever. After that, it was just me against the world. I was good with a blade, so I became a sellsword. Wound up in the courts of a few kings here and there, but none of them were any good, so I left them."

"And Arthur's a good enough king that you're willing to stay?"

"Aye. He's alright," Gwaine's smile returned. "I think I'll stay here awhile."

"Well. Sir Gwaine, a nobly born rogue. It seems I'm marrying well enough after all," Linnet smirked.

"Did someone say you weren't?"

"People always whisper," she said. She folded her arms on the ledge and rested her chin on them. "I'm a noblewoman, after all. The daughter of a baron. They all say I should have married another baron or some other man with titles and lands. Or an heir to titles and lands. But the trouble is," she stopped to take a breath. Gwaine thought he saw the glint of moisture in her eyes. "My father's lands are minor, and I have three brothers who will inherit everything. I have no great wealth, am not exceedingly accomplished at singing or some other skill, nor am I one of the kingdom's great beauties. So while I might have noble blood, I have little else. I may be one of the queen's ladies, but even that isn't enough to entice a wealthy man to my side."

Gwaine reached out to her, his fingers hovering above Linnet's shoulder. "Do you regret saying yes to my proposal, then? Do you wish some other, higher-born man had asked you?"

"No. I don't regret it." She took his hand and kissed it before leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around her. "If I'd had any doubts about my feelings for you, I wouldn't have given myself to you that night."

"I guess that did make things quite clear between us," Gwaine chuckled. "It's a good thing we have each other, then, if no one else would have us. Now it's two of us against the rest of the world."

Linnet laughed. "The two of us, and our very good friends here in Camelot. Friends who probably think we've gone off to commit some unspeakable act of passion somewhere." She stood and took his hands to lead him away. "Come on. Let's go back to the dance."

 

* * *

 

"Emrys?"

Merlin opened his eyes and looked back. Niniane stood in the doorway, framed by the soft torchlight from inside. It made a sort of halo around her head.

"What are you doing out there, just standing in the cold? It's warm in here," she said, though she left that warmth and walked through the snow toward him.

"I needed to clear my head." He wrapped his arms around her. "There were so many people, and it was getting so stuffy in there. I just needed some…"

"Quiet?"

"Yes."

"I understand," she said and nestled against him, her head just under his chin. She smelled of soap and sweet flowers. "What were you listening to?"

"Just now?" he asked. He felt her nod. "The music of the stars. I hear them singing at night, when the skies are clear and my mind isn't too full of worries."

Niniane was silent for a moment. The only sound was their breathing and the faint _ting_ of the falling snow. "I don't hear anything," she whispered. "Just the wind and a little music."

Merlin smiled. "I've never met anyone else who can hear them. It's one of my… gifts, I suppose. There seems to be no other word for it, and no ill has come from it. It's just… music."

"The gods have certainly blessed you, then, to be able to hear the stars singing. It must be so beautiful," she said. She looked skyward, her eyes catching the warm glow from the windows overlooking the courtyard. "I wish I could hear it."

"Maybe you can," he said. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "More than anything."

He kissed her gently, brushing a hand along her cheek and pressing a fingertip to her forehead just between her eyes. "Let your mind clear, and just listen."

There was a ringing like a thousand silver bells chiming in unison, the sound lengthening, stretching out until no mortal hand or tongue could sustain the notes. New voices emerged then, like a choir composed of thousands upon thousands of voices singing just loudly enough to be heard over the horizon. There were no melodies, no beginning or ending. The music was simply tones, hypnotic and eternal. Celestial music that dared mortals to define or mimic it.

"Thank you. It's beautiful," Niniane breathed after time had passed. Whether it was minutes or hours, Merlin couldn't tell, but the snow had not covered them, and they weren't frozen in place. "I've never heard anything like it."

"I'm not surprised. You could probably spend the ages searching for something like it in the world and never find it," Merlin said.

"I'm sure," she said, and finally turned her eyes away from the stars to look up at him. "But sadly, it's not music you can dance to," she laughed.

Merlin couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face. "You can never stay serious for long, can you?"

"Sadly, no. Unless the circumstances are truly dire, I prefer to laugh," Niniane said. "Life is too short to spend it being dour when you could be happy instead."

"That's not a bad way to go through life. I wish I could do the same."

"Perhaps for one night, you can." Niniane grabbed hold of his hands and took half a step away. "Forget your cares for a little while. They'll keep until the morning. For tonight, just dance with me."

"I don't know the steps," Merlin said, though he couldn't help but smile as she swayed in time to the music they could both hear coming through the windows.

"I don't know them very well, either. Lancelot was sweet enough to dance with me, but I stepped on his feet so many times it's a miracle he didn't walk away!"

"Lancelot's too kind for that, " Merlin said. "And I really don't know any steps. I've seen people perform all the dances, but that's not the same as being taught how to do them."

"It doesn't matter," Niniane said. "Come now. It's simple. Just follow me." She grasped his hands tightly and drew him through the snow, leading him in an awkward series of steps that resembled two people trying not to trip over each other more than an actual dance. But Niniane still laughed and released one of his hands long enough to twirl about, the skirts of her bright gown flaring out like an unexpected flower blooming among the snowflakes. Her laughter filled the courtyard, drowning out the music of the stars.

 

* * *

 

It was nearing midnight when Arthur found Guinevere again. She had slipped out of the great hall sometime earlier when he was stuck listening to an aging guildmaster drone on about something or other. He'd hardly paid attention after the first ten minutes and would happily have run away after the second ten minutes was up. But politeness had keep him rooted to the floor through the man's wandering stories, right up until moment the old man's wife had tired of the pointless tales and ushered him away, freeing everyone else as well.

Guinevere stood by the window in an alcove overlooking courtyard garden. Her arms were folded across her chest to ward off the chill the thick glass couldn't keep at bay, and she was smiling.

Arthur came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What's so amusing out there? Have a bunch of sprites and fairies come out of the trees to play?"

"Not quite," Guinevere said. She leaned against him, soaking in his warmth. "Look down there."

He looked, over her shoulder and down a storey into the garden outside where two dancers flitted in and out of the shadows, spending half a moment in the warm light from the windows before returning to the moon's silvery half-light.

Merlin and Niniane. Not _quite_ forest sprites.

"They remind me of little birds learning to fly," Guinevere said, her voice hushed as though she were afraid they would hear her. "They know how it's supposed to look, but they haven't quite got the knack for it yet. I suppose the fact that it's cold and neither one of them is dressed for it doesn't help."

"I don't think they've noticed the cold," Arthur said.

"Perhaps not."

As if by some unheard cue, the dancers stopped their turns and came together. Merlin took Niniane in his arms, and she nestled her head against his chest. Like two sparrows coming together against the cold. It was a gesture no more intimate than Arthur and Guinevere's; just two people standing together in the night. And yet Arthur suddenly felt as though he was intruding, watching something not meant for his eyes or anyone else's.

"We should go," he whispered in Guinevere's ear. "It's late, and our bed is far warmer that this hallway."

Guinevere looked up at him, her eyes shining. "If you insist," she said, and kissed him.

"I do insist," Arthur replied and led her way, not sparing a glance back to the courtyard with its fairies and sprites, or the two lovers keeping each other from falling too far into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The clouds allowed the sun to peek through for a few bright hours the next morning before they huddled together again, darkening the land and dumping even more snow on Camelot, just as Merlin thought it would. He pushed the shutters closed and sighed. There were times he didn't enjoy being right.

"From your gloomy expression, I'd guess it's snowing again?" Gaius asked from his seat at the workbench.

"It is. And it probably will for another day or so." Merlin scowled and dropped into the chair across from Gaius. "I think I liked it better when I couldn't feel the earth around us. It's less depressing when you don't know you're in for days and days of bad weather." He took up the mortar and pestle and set to grinding the herbs therein.

"There are worse things in the world than knowing the weather in advance," Gaius chided him. "A lot of people would love to have that sort of gift."

"They can have it," Merlin said, smashing the pestle hard against the mortar and sending a puff of herbal powder flying into his face. He sneezed. "Not that I'm longing for the days when Uther was alive, but my _gifts_ were lot more manageable then."

"I have no doubt that a time will come when you'll be glad you have all these abilities. You have them for a reason," Gaius said sagely, raising an eyebrow when Merlin scowled at the herbs in the mortar again. "At least tell me you had a good time last night. I know attending feasts with the whole court in attendance isn't your favorite thing in the world, but it couldn't have been all bad."

"No, it wasn't all terrible." A smile touched Merlin's lips at the memory of Niniane's laughter when they were dancing through the snow. Like silver bells in the clear air. "Though I still can't figure out why everyone was so shocked when Arthur called for a Volta. It was just a dance."

Gaius chuckled. "All this time in the court of Camelot, and you haven't figured out what properly modest people are supposed to do or not do in public."

"No, I haven't," Merlin said. "And if I ever did learn all their silly little rules, I'd still be baffled by them. Arthur lifted Gwen up into the air a few times. They were both fully clothed, and they're married. Why should anyone be surprised when two married people touch each other?"

"You're as bad as Niniane sometimes," Gaius said, shaking his head. He took the mortar back from Merlin and dumped the well-crushed herbs into a small jar of diluted honey, pushed the stopper into place, and rolled it between his hands to mix it. "I hope she didn't get herself into any trouble last night? She doesn't guard her tongue as well as she should."

"No trouble on that front," Merlin grinned. "Unless you count the fact that she stepped on Lancelot's toes when they danced. He didn't seem to mind, though."

"Lancelot's toes?" Gaius's eyebrow rose, somehow disapproving and amused at the same time. "Why not yours?"

"Oh, for the thousandth time, I don't know how. I never learned the steps to any of the courtly dances, and it's not like we had a lot of time to dance in Ealdor." Not that any of the girls in the village would have stepped out with him. They'd all been half in love with Will anyway, and Merlin had been too awkward, too gangly, and just too _strange_ to attract any of them.

There had been no chance for dancing with Freya.

"Of all the knowledge that got stuffed into your head, you'd think there would have been an entry on dancing," Gaius harrumphed. "Apparently none of the ancients had any thoughts about having fun."

"I did have fun" Merlin insisted. "Just not at the feast. Niniane tried to teach me a few steps later, in one of the little courtyards. It was quiet and… nice. We had it to ourselves, and it stopped snowing. We could even see the stars for a while." The little smile returned. He'd had to use magic to open the door when they finally came back inside. Their hands had been so numb they could hardly use them. But they'd hardly noticed the cold until they came back inside and the warmth washed over them, hot as a summer wind.

"Well, since you didn't spend the whole evening being a dour old hermit, I suppose it was a good night, then," Gaius said. "You should have been taking advantage of all this idle time we've been having, and spent it with Niniane. I doubt Guinevere would have minded her absence, and Arthur can do without you for an afternoon now and then."

"I'll have to see if I can steal her away later today," Merlin said. "If only so you'll stop pestering me about it." He glanced up in time to see Gaius roll his eyes.

He did want to spend time with Niniane. As much as he could. He knew perfectly well how precarious life was- how it twisted and turned and made the once-straight path turn in drastic new directions. And he knew how it could end without warning, putting an end to all plans. It made him want to hold her close and never let her go.

And it frightened him- this desire, this topsy-turvy feeling in his chest whenever he looked at her. It turned his rational self every which way until he wasn't sure of anything anymore, except that he wanted to see her smile again. No wonder they called it _falling_ in love.

Merlin just wished he knew if he was falling in love, or simply falling.

"See to it that you take some time off at any rate, regardless of who you spend it with," Gaius said. "The foul weather will pass soon and you'll have enough to keep you occupied when that happens."

"Undoubtedly," Merlin said. He cleared away the tools and herbs that Gaius was finished with and pulled out the books the physician would need for his lessons. With Merlin teaching Gareth and Erec, Gaius had taken up the task of teaching Stilicho and Aimery while Blaise saw to the medical needs of the people in the lower town. As usual, the arrangement suited the needs and abilities of everyone involved. "I'm going to look in on Bedivere, and then I'm off to see if Arthur needs anything. Do you have everything you need?"

"I could do with warmer weather," Gaius said as he rubbed a salve over his joints. The cold had settled into his old bones, making his arthritis flare up all the worse. Merlin's arm twinged in sympathy. "But since you can't summon an early spring, then I suppose I'll just have to wait."

"We're all waiting with you," Merlin said as he grabbed his satchel. "I'm off, then. Try not to get into too much trouble."

Gaius just rolled his eyes and waved him away.

It was a quiet day in the castle in spite of- or perhaps because of- the previous night's festivities. The servants had spent the morning cleaning and were back to their normal routines, while the nobility who hadn't gone back to their own homes were likely sleeping off their overindulgences. Whatever the reason the castle was peaceful enough that Merlin's irritation at the weather faded away, leaving him calm enough to face Bedivere without snapping at him.

The gangly knight's leg was healing nicely, and if he didn't manage to fall down the stairs or do something equally foolish while hobbling about in the next few weeks, he'd be training with the men again in the spring. And while Bedivere hadn't quite gotten used to 'Merlin the Sorcerer' also playing the role of 'Merlin the Healer', the knight had stopped looking at him crosswise every time Merlin looked him in the eye. It probably helped that he had used a touch of magic to help Bedivere sleep during the worst parts of his recovery. People were always more inclined to like those who made them feel better.

Still, Bedivere was irritable and restless and loathed having to sit still more and more as the days passed. All Merlin could do about that was to sympathize and tell him to be patient, and then he was on his way out.

He wandered for a while, passing by the little courtyard where he and Niniane had danced. The falling snow had covered their tracks, erasing all evidence of their passage. He paused there and leaned against the windowsill, letting himself remember the night before and how bright her eyes had been in the moonlight and how difficult it had been to let her go when they parted for the night.

He missed her. It had only been half a day since he had seen Niniane, but he couldn't wait to be with her again, to listen to her chatter or hear her sing. He wouldn't even mind it if she teased him about being too serious or too tall. As long as she was there.

"Merlin!"

Gwen's voice interrupted his thoughts. He stepped away from the window to greet her. "My Lady," he smiled, looking around for her ladies- particularly Niniane- but only Linnet accompanied her today.

"Don't call me that, Merlin. You of all people needn't be formal with me," she said as she took his arm and tugged him along.

"You can't fault me for trying to be formal. Especially in public," Merlin said.

"There's no one here, Merlin. Just us chickens," she said, gesturing around at the empty hall around them.

"And yet they say that the walls have eyes. And foxes have sharper ears than you'd think," Merlin said.

"There you go, trying to put a damper on things. And we were having such a nice day, weren't we, Linnet?"

"A perfectly lovely one," Linnet said, her sloe-eyed gaze thoughtful as she looked Merlin up and down. "If only you hadn't sent Niniane on that quest for green thread."

"She'll be back soon enough," Gwen said. She patted Merlin's hand as though he had complained about Niniane not being there. "We were just talking about the feast last night."

"It was alright," Linnet said. "The dancing was interesting, though no one saw you out on the floor- with Niniane or anyone else."

Merlin let out an exasperated sigh. "For the love… I don't know how to dance, alright? I know how to do a lot of things, but dancing isn't one of them. How many times am I going to have to tell people that?"

"Oh leave him alone, Linnet," Gwen laughed. "If dancing is the only thing Merlin isn't well-versed in, it's no great loss. He knows about a lot more things that are far more important than a few dances."

"Thank you," Merlin said. "You'd think it was the end of the world with the way people carry on about that."

"I'm not going to hold it against you," Gwen said. "Did you have a good time last night? That's what I want to know. Whenever I looked over, you looked a bit sad." She squeezed his arm as though that would drive away his melancholy thoughts.

"I wasn't sad. There were a lot of people there and sometimes they're all… difficult to handle."

"I understand that," Gwen said. "At least you didn't have everyone staring at you all night. It seemed like every time I looked, someone else was giving me a disapproving look. Or they were watching me while they whispered behind their hands. Of all the things that have changed since I became queen, I think that part's the worst. Everyone's always judging every little thing that I do. Feels like the last time I didn't have a thousand eyes on me was when we went into the forest to meet Niniane. That was such a lovely day."

Merlin remembered it well. At the tail end of summer, when the birds had been singing and the last of the flowers were blooming, and the sunshine had been golden and perfect. It was one of those days that he hadn't wanted to see the end of.

"If only it wasn't snowing again, I'd declare it to be a good time for a picnic in the forest. Anything to get out of the castle for a little while," Gwen sighed.

"It's awfully cold for that," Linnet said.

"Never mind the cold," Gwen said."That's what well-made cloaks are for. Oh, well. I suppose there will be time enough for picnics when spring comes back around. Assuming some terrible thing hasn't happened, or that we're not at war. What do you think, Merlin? Will spring be filled with picnics, or with swords?"

"I honestly don't know," Merlin said, dragging his attention away from the seed of an idea germinating within. "My visions have been quiet of late."

"Then I guess you'll be as surprised as everyone else," Gwen said.

Merlin huffed a laugh at that. "Will anyone be using the great hall tonight?"

Guinevere looked up at him, her eyebrows rising at the sudden change in conversation. "Not that I know of. The food and decorations have already been cleared, and nothing is going on between now and Twelfth Night."

"Good. Go there tonight after the vesper bells have rung," Merlin smiled at her confusion. "Bring Arthur and your ladies. And maybe the knights, too, if you think you can put up with them." He took his arm back from her grasp and took half a step away.

"What? Why?"

"You'll see," Merlin said, his grin widening. "I'll bid you farewell for now, though. I have some preparations to make."

* * *

 

"I hope you're not busy tonight."

Arthur looked up from his papers at the sound of Guinevere's voice. She had come into their chambers without him noticing. "Not really. Why?"

She tugged the shawl off her shoulders and tossed it on the bed before coming to wrap her arms around him. "Merlin is planning something. He wants us to go to the great hall after the vesper bells have rung. Whatever it is, it's for all of us. I sent Linnet to tell the others."

Arthur pushed the papers away and covered her hands with his. "Did he say what it's about?"

"No, just where and when."

"That's very unhelpful of him."

"Well he looked rather excited about it, so I don't think it's going to be anything terrible," Guinevere said. She kissed him on the cheek and slipped away to pick up a brush and work the snarls out of her hair.

"I guess we'll see," Arthur said. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Your hair's already beautiful. You don't need to do anything else to it."

"It's all tangled up. It needs a good brushing."

"It's beautiful," Arthur insisted.

"Tangled," she replied, turning about to look up at him.

"Beautiful."

"Tangled," she said, bringing the brush up to block the kiss he was about to plant on her lips.

He gave it a cross-eyed glare. "I don't like kissing hairbrushes as much as I like kissing you."

Guinevere smiled. "Then let me finish brushing my hair, and you can kiss me as much as you like."

* * *

 

Things progressed rather beyond kissing once the hairbrush was put away, and so it was well past the appointed time when Arthur and Guinevere finally arrived in the great hall. Everyone else was already there and seated on a handful of blankets that had been spread out on the floor as though for a picnic. There was a basket full of food, too. Simple fare, mostly- bread, cheese, apple tarts, and wine.

"It's about time you two showed up," Gwaine said, a knowing grin on his face. "We were thinking about sending a search party."

"There's no need for that now, is there?" Arthur said, shrugging off the smirks. "The question we should be asking is why we're all here in the first place. Merlin, do you care to answer?"

The sorcerer stood up and straightened his sleeves. "Well, earlier Gwen was telling me about how much she enjoyed the feast last night, but wished there hadn't been so many people around being nosy busy-bodies."

"I did say something about a picnic," Gwen demurred, but a blush of pleasure was rising in her cheeks. "I was thinking about that day in the forest, when we met Niniane. It was so beautiful. I wish you could have been there, Arthur."

Arthur rested a hand against the small of her back and escorted her to an open spot on the blanket next to Lancelot and Elayne. "It appears we have a picnic now, though we'll have to make do without a forest."

"That's where you're wrong," Merlin said.

Arthur drew a breath to object. There were clearly no trees in the great hall, and no plants either. Just the high stone pillars, an expanse of glass windows, and the nine of them sitting on blankets in the middle of the room.

"Just wait and see," Merlin said, raising a long-fingered hand. His gaze went distant and he whispered something Arthur couldn't catch. Then he closed his eyes over their rising golden glow.

The candles dimmed, slowly dropping the room into darkness until each wick held a mere spark of light and the room was bathed only in the residual glow from the city's lights. Suddenly, each tiny flame broke away from the candles, and every reflection from glass and jewel flew towards Merlin like a flock of shining birds coming home for the night. He caught them all in his cupped hands and brought them to his lips to whisper to them, the light in his eyes adding to the golden glow around his face.

With a final word, Merlin flung the lights away. They spread throughout the hall and fell in shimmering clouds of gold and silver, forming outlines and shapes that grew more substantial as they descended until the illusion of an evening forest settled into being around them.

Guinevere gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining as she watched the last motes of light fade away, turning into leaves or fireflies or flowers. As beautiful as it all was, Arthur couldn't tear his gaze away from her or the smile spreading across her face.

"Your forest, My Lady." Merlin grinned and sat back down next to Niniane.

"It's wonderful," Guinevere breathed. She laughed as an illusory blue butterfly landed on her knee. "Thank you, Merlin."


	4. Chapter 4

The conversation lasted far longer than the wine did. There had only been enough to lighten moods and draw out laughter, and Arthur didn't mind that. Revelry was fine. Drunken revelry was less so, but there was no danger of that tonight. The worst that had happened so far was that Linnet had made an offhand remark about Gwaine that set his cheeks ablaze before he buried his face in his hands, as though that would shield him from the embarrassment of whatever she had said.

Arthur hadn't heard, having wandered away for a while to watch them all celebrate… Well, they were celebrating nothing, really, save for the fact that they were healthy and happy enough to celebrate at all.

That seemed like enough of a reason for a party.

"Are you trying to hide?"

Arthur looked up and found Merlin standing there watching him, his eyes sparkling. "No, I'm just wondering how long my great hall is going to look like a forest. I have a feeling the council is going to be irate if they have to conduct the kingdom's business with butterflies flapping all around them."

Merlin grinned. "I'll only last until dawn. Once the sun has fully risen, the light of the new day will wash away the enchantment, butterflies included."

"That's good."

"Don't you like it? Everyone else seems to."

"I didn't say I didn't like it. I said the council would find it odd," Arthur said. "You should take your own advice and listen to what I said, not what you think I said. You're always telling me that."

Merlin laughed and raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I was just teasing. I figured you'd be with Guinevere and the others if you were having fun, and not lurking over here in the shadows."

"The same could be said of you," Arthur said. He gestured toward where Niniane was trying to coax an illusory blue butterfly onto her finger, just like Elayne had. "She's over there, and you're over here."

"I'm glad you could figure that much out," Merlin said.

Arthur batted him on the arm. "I'm just saying that you should be over there with her, not lurking over here in the shadows with me. Who did you make this all for, anyway? Guinevere, or Niniane?"

Merlin's ears reddened. "Gwen just said she missed the forest, and that she wished there could be a celebration where everyone at court wasn't staring at her."

"And Niniane doesn't miss the forest, either?" The red blush moved into Merlin's cheeks. Arthur chuckled, took him by the shoulders, and gently pushed him in the direction of the Druid girl. "Go on. Spend some time with her. It won't kill you."

He followed the sorcerer, though it wasn't to make sure he did as he was told. He simply wanted to sit with Guinevere and see if she would spare some of those smiles for him. She did, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, too.

"Niniane?" Elayne's voice echoed through the forested hall. "Will you sing for us?"

"Of course," she replied and let her captured butterfly return to the air in a flash of blue. "What do you want to hear?"

"Hmm." Elayne had a thoughtful expression on her face as she plopped back onto the blanket next to Lancelot. "Sing something sad," she said after a few moments.

"Why do you want me to sing a sad song? Why not something happy?"

"Because sad songs remind people to be happy," Elayne said. "If a person in a story is mourning the loss of someone they love, then maybe you'll remember to be grateful for the ones you have."

Arthur looked at Elayne like he'd never seen her before, and he wasn't the only one. The girl seemed so flippant and ridiculous so often that it was easy to forget that she had a brain in her head.

"You simply must sing a sad song then, Niniane," Guinevere said. "It's times like these that we need to remember how blessed we are to have our friends and family nearby. And we need to remember, too, those who are far away." Her smile turned sad. No doubt she was thinking of Elyan in far off Tintagel.

"A sad song," Niniane said. She stood up straight and tugged at her sleeves, lost in thought. "Ah. I know," she said and took a deep breath.

_"My young love said to me,_   
_My mother won't mind_   
_And my father won't slight you_   
_For your lack of kind._   
_And he stepped away from me_   
_And this he did say:_   
_It will not be long, Love,_   
_'Til our wedding day._

_As he stepped away from me_   
_And he moved through the fair_   
_And fondly I watched him_   
_Move here and move there._   
_And then he made his way homeward,_   
_With one star awake,_   
_As the swans in the evening_   
_Moved over the lake."_

Her voice was sweet and clear, and quietly mournful. Just like it had been the first time Arthur had heard her sing- the night after the battle at Blackheath, when she and two of her kin had saved Merlin's life. And it was easy to get lost in the rise and fall of her voice and not hear the lyrics at all.

" _The people were saying,  
__No two e'er were wed  
__But one had a sorrow  
__That never was said.  
__And I smiled as he passed  
__With his goods and his gear,  
__And that was the last  
__That I saw of my dear."_

Arthur looked over at Merlin. The sorcerer sat perfectly still with his knees drawn up to his chest, head tilted as he listened. It was hard to gauge the expression on his face, whether he was merely thoughtful or if he was remembering someone he had lost before. God knew there were enough ghosts haunting Merlin's past to warrant his melancholy.

Or did his thoughts run toward the future and the possibilities that lay before him, unseen except by his far-seeing eyes?

" _Last night he came to me,  
__My dead love came in.  
__So softly he came  
__That his feet made no din.  
__And he laid his hand on me,  
__And this he did say:  
__It will not be long, love,  
__'Til our wedding day."_

Guinevere's fingers tightened around his and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Arthur brought her hand to his lips and she looked up at him, startled. She dashed the tears away and smiled. "That was lovely, Niniane," she said.

"I wonder if the boy said that because he didn't know he was dead, or if he knew she would be joining him soon in the Land of the Dead," Elayne wondered. She adjusted her skirts with a flick of her wrists, and when part of the silken fabric landed on Lancelot's knee, he didn't brush it away.

"Perhaps it was a little bit of both," Merlin said, but if there was an explanation for his words, he didn't share it.

"Whatever his reasons were, it was a beautiful song. You should sing for us more often," Guinevere said.

"I already sing a lot, My Lady. If I sang anymore, I wouldn't be talking at all. Just singing songs!" she laughed.

Guinevere smiled. "Worse things could happen."

 

* * *

 

Another hour passed before Merlin found his chance to slip away unnoticed. It only took a whisper of magic to turn their eyes away from himself while Gwaine told some ridiculous joke. Niniane had worked her way to the edge of the group, too. _'Are you ready to go?'_ he asked her, mind to mind.

' _Yes,'_ she sent back, her eyes sparkling.

' _Come on, then. I'd rather not hold this spell longer than I have to.'_ He took her hand and led her out of the room through a side door, being careful to muffle the sound of the door's latching. It was a shame to leave his handiwork behind- it wasn't everyday he got to play like that, summon the memory of a summer forest and make it seem real, if only for a little while.

But now seemed as good a time as any to spend some time with Niniane. Better than most, actually, as everyone else would be too wrapped up in their own amusements to tease him about it.

"Where are we going?" she whispered as they hurried up a second flight of stairs and down a long hallway.

" _You'll see."_

" _Why are we in such a hurry, then? You haven't dismissed that invisibility spell yet. I can feel it. If no one can see us, why are we sneaking around like this?"_

' _But isn't the intrigue fun?'_ he said, pausing long enough to spin her about like they were dancing. Her laughter echoed down the hallway. A guard looked up at the sound, a puzzled look on his face when he couldn't find the source. Merlin put a finger to her lips and muffled his own laughter. _'Come on. We're almost there.'_

'There' turned out to be a set of chambers at the far end of the royal wing, one usually reserved for visiting dignitaries and ambassadors from the neighboring kingdoms. Because there were few of those during the winter, the rooms stood empty. While they were unoccupied, the servants only came once a week to dust and air out the rooms.

"What are we doing here?" Niniane asked once Merlin had closed and locked the door behind them.

"Whatever we want to do," Merlin said. "We could play chess or just watch it snow outside. The view from here is lovely. You can see the nobles' homes and the guard towers from here. And some of the forest, too."

"Oh, I see. You sneak us in here so we can play chess and look out the window," Niniane teased. "You're so romantic, Emrys. I don't understand why the girls aren't lining up to get your attention."

Merlin laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I have a special kind of charm that attracts a special kind of girl. What would you suggest that we do?"

She snuggled close and rested her head against her chest. "The room is a bit cold," she said. "And I know you don't care for fire. Perhaps we could curl up together on that very comfortable bed and keep each other warm for a while?"

"We could do that," Merlin said, and kissed her.

 

* * *

 

"Where's Merlin?" Guinevere asked.

Arthur looked up and then around the great hall, peering through the branches of the illusory trees. "I don't know," he said, suddenly realizing that it had been a while since he had seen the sorcerer.

"And while we're at it, we should probably ask where Niniane is, too," Linnet said slyly.

Arthur grinned. "Well, wherever they are, they had better be together."

 

* * *

 

They were together, and they kept each other perfectly warm all through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is called, 'He Moved Through the Fair', and my favorite version is sung by Loreena McKennit. It's normally 'She Moved through the Fair', but I've heard it both ways, depending on the artist.


	5. Chapter 5

"When you were growing up in the middle of nowhere, did you ever imagine you'd end up in someplace like this?"

Merlin chuckled and twined his fingers into Niniane's hair, resisting the urge to smooth it down. The early morning sunlight caught the flyaway strands, making them glow like an insubstantial crown around her head. The light hadn't quite reached her eyes, though, leaving them dark, like a pool in a deep forest glen. "No," he said, "I never imagined that I'd end up in a place like this. I always thought I'd grow up, become an herbalist like my mother, and live in her house once she was gone."

"Even with all your magic?"

"Even with all my magic," he said. "I knew it was a special sort of gift, but I didn't know how special until I came to Camelot, and Gaius set a few things straight for me."

"Oh." Niniane squirmed, snuggling deeper under the downy blankets that covered them both. She brushed her fingers up along his rib cage, drawing a shiver out of him before she rested her head against his shoulder. "It must have been terribly lonely there. I can't imagine what it would have been like, growing up with no one knowing the truth about you."

"My mother knew," Merlin said. "She taught me the very basics of control and how to hide my magic. And Will knew, too."

"Who's Will?"

"He is- _was-_ my friend." It was the essential truth, but didn't quite cover how close they had been, once upon a time. Will had been a best friend, confidante, and big brother all rolled into one. It still hurt every time he stopped and realized that Will was dead, and that he had used his dying words to protect Merlin. "He died a few years ago, when a group of bandits attacked Ealdor. Arthur, Gwen, and…. and Morgana, if you can believe it, had come with me to try to fight them off. We all did the best we could, but we couldn't fight them off by ourselves. I had to use magic to win the day. As he lay dying, Will claimed that he was the sorcerer who defeated the bandits. And then he was gone, and I never had the chance to thank him for protecting me like that."

"I think he knows. Somewhere, beyond this world in the Land of the Dead, he knows." She raised herself up on one arm and kissed him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up sad memories."

"It's alright. The sad memories come back so easily. Sometimes it's hard to remember they they're outweighed by the good ones," Merlin said.

"I understand. My parents died when I was a child," she said. "I remember the night when they were taken away from me so well that it almost drowns out everything else about them. Sometimes it's an effort to remember my mother braiding my hair, or when my father would put me up on his shoulders so I could pull the best apples off the trees. He seemed so tall. I didn't think there was anyone in the world who could be as tall as he was. And there was certainly no woman in the world who was prettier than my mother."

"Well, I never knew your mother, but I think you'd surpass her for beauty," Merlin said. He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close, letting her warmth sink into his body and breathing deeply to let the sweet scent of her hair fill his nose so he would never forget it.

"Flatterer," she accused him with a smile. Her fingertips traced the hollow of his collarbone. "I hope I've only given you good memories."

Merlin grinned. "You have. _Very_ good memories." That drew a silvery giggle from her.

They lay quietly for a while, listening to the distant sounds as Camelot slowly woke up. Somewhere outside the room and down the hallway, someone laughed and a door slammed. A gust of wind rattled the tall windows in their frames. Clouds raced across the face of the sun, weaving patterns of light and shadow throughout the room. The sunlight wouldn't last for long, Merlin knew, so they basked in whatever amount they could get.

"It's so cold out there," Niniane said suddenly. "I know it's silly, but it almost feels like we'll never see summer again. There's been so much snow and wind. It's not like it was when I was little."

"Where all did you go in the winter?"

"Here and there," she said. "Last winter, it was Helva by way of Blackheath. But we usually ended up in the southern parts of Nemeth, near where our cousins the Britons are still hidden away among the mists and the trees. I saw them once, about ten years ago. Their leader was a woman, and she was the fiercest person I'd ever seen. It was like she could look straight into your soul and know everything about you. I only caught a glimpse of her, but I'll never forget her. It was like coming face to face with a wolf."

"She does sound fearsome. I'm not sure if I'd like to meet her or not."

"I don't think you'd have to worry, Emrys. If she's even still alive, she would probably want to meet you. Not like me. I was just a silly little girl wandering about in places I shouldn't have been."

"Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't," Merlin said. If this woman was as insightful as Niniane claimed, he wasn't sure he would want her poking around in his head or his soul. "What's the south of Nemeth like?" he asked to change the subject.

"It's beautiful," Niniane breathed. Her eyes went distant as she remembered. "There are high, rocky cliffs that fall straight down into the sea, and the waters are so blue that sometimes, it's hard to tell what is sky and what is water. The forests are deeper than the ones here. They _feel_ older, if you understand me. I've been to Broceliande before, and it feels old, too, but it's also angry and watchful. Like it would strike out at you if you let your guard down. But in Nemeth, the forests are… content. And secretive, too."

"The hills are very high there," she continued, "and they fall down into deep valleys that seem to always be full of mists. It's a mysterious place. And warm, too. It never feels truly cold there, like it does here in the winter. Iseldir said it was something about the wind that rises up from the sea. We called it the Summer Country."

Merlin heard a ringing in his ears, like two broken pieces of a whole had suddenly come together and sealed themselves back into one. He sat up and stared down at her, heedless of the chilly air that rushed in when he pulled the blankets away. "You called it the what?"

Niniane shivered and grabbed for the blankets. "The Summer Country. We called it that because it was warm, even in the winter. Why?"

He looked away, searching his memory for the prophetic words he had spoken in the summer, when Morgana had appeared before him in the forest without warning. "'To the shores and deepening mists of the Summer Country'. It was a prophecy I made- that Morgana and I made. Last summer, when that woodsman accused me of treason. I spent weeks searching through every map and every book I could think of, but I never even found a whisper of it."

"That's because it's just the name we gave to it," Niniane said. She clutched the blankets to her chest as she sat up. "We have no books or maps that we take with us, Emrys. Just the knowledge we carry up here," she said, tapping his temple with a slender finger.

"I'm glad you carry it with you," Merlin said. He kissed her fingers and then her lips, giddy in the moment of revelation.

Niniane laughed. "I can show it to you, if you'd like."

"It's awfully snowy out to go on a journey."

"On a map!" She swatted his arm before slipping out of the bed to retrieve her clothes.

He moved to follow her, then stopped. She was too beautiful, and the moment was too perfect to hurry through it. So he stayed still, watching her move, and studying how the light fell on her pale skin and the way her dark hair traced the outlines of her body. He wanted to remember it all, because it would be over all too soon and the gods only knew what the future would bring.

"Emrys? What's wrong?"

Merlin blinked and took a breath. "Nothing. I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" She said, rolling her shoulders as she pulled the bodice of her gown into place and straightened the sleeves.

"About how beautiful you are," he said.

She grinned. "You've certainly gotten better at being charming since yesterday. Now hurry up and get dressed. If we tarry too long, they're going to start looking for us and I'd like to hear as little from Linnet about it as possible. I swear. That woman knows better than anyone how to make a person blush."

They were dressed and out the door a few minutes later. A quick spell put the room back into perfect order, and a bit more magic told them when the hallway was clear so they could make a break for the library without their presence being commented upon. Merlin said a quick word of greeting to Geoffery as they slipped past him and into the dusty map room.

"Nemeth. I need Nemeth," Merlin muttered as he gently shuffled through a collection of heavy parchments. "Rheged, Alba.. Eire? How did that get in there? Whoever used these last apparently didn't know how to put things away," he said, shaking his head.

"I'll laugh if I find out it was you," Niniane said. "Is this one it? I think I recognize that coastline." She tugged at one map whose fading edge stuck out from underneath an old sailing chart.

"That's it." Merlin put the chart aside so they could pull the map out and lay it on the table. It wasn't the newest of documents; Daelbeth still appeared as a city and not as the ruin it now was, but the landforms hadn't changed, and neither had the location of Nemeth's capitol city.

Niniane traced her finger over the parchment, brow furrowed in concentration. "We always follow the edge of the White Mountains as we head south. From stone circle here," she pointed to a blank spot where there were no towns and the forest pulled away to the east, "we turn a little east to go through Gedref, and then briefly into Deorham before reaching Nemeth. The land rises a bit here, and we follow that along the settled lands and farms before we reach the coastal valleys that we call the Summer Country.

"It's said that the Isle of Mora, right here," she said, pointing to a little island not far off Nemeth's southern coast," is where most of the Britons live. I've never been there, though. On a clear day you can see it from the cliffs, but there's usually so much fog that it feels more like a myth. What is it you're looking for?" She looked up at him.

"I don't know," Merlin said. "All the prophecy said was that old magics would be reawakened, 'from the storm-tossed seas of the Isle of the Blessed to the deepening mists of the Summer Country'."

"Huh." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Perhaps the Britons will come out of hiding, then. I know the world sees them as more legends than people, but they're there. I know they are. I've seen them. Iseldir said they started disappearing into the mists when the Romans invaded long ago. Those who remained in the Five Kingdoms departed at the beginning of the Great Purge."

"What does that mean, though?" Merlin asked. "'Disappearing into the mists'. Surely they weren't counting on fog to hide them forever?"

"No, I don't think that's how it went. But if Iseldir ever explained it, I either wasn't there or I wasn't listening," she said, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. "Perhaps you'll be able to ask him when my people return to Camelot in the spring."

"Yes," Merlin said, staring at the map and mentally marking the path Niniane had indicated. "I just hope that whatever I'm supposed to do there- assuming I'm supposed to do anything at all- doesn't happen before then."

"If it does happen, I'll go with you. We can figure it out together," she said and kissed him on the cheek.

Someone cleared his throat behind them. "I thought I'd find you here."

Merlin turned, startled. Gwaine leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his face. "Linnet told me that the queen's looking for you, Niniane. And Arthur's been pestering everyone about your whereabouts, Merlin. I told him that if you weren't in your chambers, you'd probably be in the library. And here you both are."

"Yes, you've caught us red-handed," Merlin said. "Congratulations."

Niniane poked him in the ribs. "What did Her Majesty want? Did Linnet say?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Something about herbs, I think."

"I'd better go, then. I'll see you later," She rolled to her tiptoes and gave Merlin a quick kiss on the lips before hurrying away.

Gwaine watched her go, then turned back to Merlin, tsking and shaking his head. "What's the matter with you, mate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Niniane's a beautiful girl, and she's crazy about you. But when you get her alone at last, you take her to the _library_?" He reached out and punched Merlin lightly on the shoulder. "We really need to work on your courtship skills."

"There's nothing wrong with my 'courtship skills'," Merlin said. He ducked away from Gwaine's grasp and set about putting the maps away properly.

"Merlin, if you were a normal sort of fellow, I would have discovered you in bed with her. Instead, I found you two looking at a bunch of dusty old maps. That is nothing resembling a normal courtship."

"Well, neither Niniane nor I are particularly normal, are we?" He set the last of the maps back on its shelf and magicked the dust away from the room.

Gwaine opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and reconsidered. "I suppose you're right. But promise me that sometime you'll make an effort to court her the way men normally do?"

Merlin kept a straight face as memories of the night before flowed through his mind. "All right, then. I promise."

"Good." Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder and directed him out of the library. "Let's get going. Arthur's waiting."


	6. Chapter 6

"I thought you had decided to stay. You've only been here for a few weeks." Morgana closed her chamber door behind herself and leaned against it, as though that would keep Accolon from leaving her again.

Accolon sighed and bowed his head, but the tense set of his shoulders told her it wasn't from regret. He tugged at his swordbelt to ensure it was solidly buckled, then turned to face her. "I received a message from my father this morning. He wants me back home to start planning this spring's campaigns against Camelot."

"And did the messenger nip at your heels all the way from Rheged?" Morgana asked. "He must have, as quickly as he arrived. Is the Isle of the Blessed not as comfortable as you're used to? Or do you find the beds of dim-witted serving girls to be more comfortable than mine?"

"This isn't about us, Morgana!" His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, and for a moment Morgana thought he might draw it. Then he took a deep breath and his arm fell to his side. "I rode for days through snow and icy mountain passes to be with you. Would I have done all that if I didn't want to be here? I don't like the timing of it, either, but it's not my choice. My father is negotiating a marriage contract for my brother as well as the campaign against Camelot. He wants both of his sons with him, and I can't very well deny him without losing my position."

Morgana kept her expression neutral. "Who's the lucky woman?"

"A Saxon princess. I'm not sure of her name."

"A Saxon?!" She practically flew across the distance between them and glared up at him. "We have been fighting to keep the Saxons out of our lands for nearly a century, Accolon, and now your family wants to invite them in? What does your father think he's playing at? The Saxons don't want a marriage contract. They only want two things: our land and our blood. And your father would just hand both of those to them? What sort of fool is he?"

Accolon grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back a step. "My father is no fool, Morgana. Open your eyes! There is a big world out there beyond our little islands, and if we sit here pretending it doesn't exist, that world will wash over us like we were ants in a flood. Why do you think the Saxons keep coming, year after year? It's because there's someone out there who frightens them. The Saxons, who _we_ fear because of their cruelty, are afraid of someone else out there. What do you think that means for us?"

Morgana couldn't answer that. She had Seen such an invasion in her visions and, along with Merlin, had formed a prophecy that demanded that old powers unite, and intimated that strange alliances would be formed. "I am not blind," she said at last. "I See more than you know."

"Yes, and you know I'm right. But if we ally ourselves with the Saxons, then Rheged might have a chance to stop what's coming."

She clenched her jaw and looked away.

"What are _your_ plans, then? I noticed right away that instead of planning your next move against your brother, you've been playing house with a flock of peasants."

"They're no peasants," Morgana said, the rising up in her voice. "They're my kind. My people. I summoned them here so we might rebuild the Isle of the Blessed."

"And how will they help you re-take your throne? Are they going to farm Arthur's army to death? Build you a nice little road to take you there?" He let go of her and stalked a few paces away. "It makes me wonder if you've lost interest in the throne of Camelot altogether. After everything you've tried and all the plans you put in motion, Arthur is still king and you're the mistress of a stone ruin."

Morgana refused to respond. No matter what her answer was, it would only solidify his opinion of the matter. She was beginning to lose her taste for war, after all. One could only fail so many times before it grew difficult to summon the energy and will to carry on. Especially when the people looked to her to defend them…

"I'm not wrong, am I?" Accolon pursed his lips. "Perhaps it would be better for us to spend the rest of the winter apart. I can see to my duties in Rheged, and you can figure out what it is you really want from this place, and for the two of us."

Morgana clenched her jaw. "Perhaps that would be best," she said evenly, despite how his words carved out an unexpected hollow beneath her heart.

"Well, then." Accolon tugged on his gloves and slung his bag over his shoulder. "I suppose we'll see each other in the spring."

"I suppose we will."

"Good-bye," he said. He paused for half a heartbeat as he passed her, and for that moment Morgana though he might kiss her or stop completely. But though he wavered, Accolon took a breath and kept walking. Out the door and away from her.

She stood silently, frozen in place for the better part of an hour, as though simply waiting for him would bring him back or cause the whole wretched incident to turn back on itself and never occur. But time marched on, and eventually she had to move forward, if only to blow out the guttering candles.

With the scent of smoke filling her nose, Morgana grabbed her cloak and left her chambers. She had shed no tears for him, but she couldn't deny that empty spot in her chest. Perhaps time would make it hurt less, but for the moment the cold air seemed like it might do more to ease the ache.

With her head down and the hood of her cloak up, Morgana could walk about the growing village nearly anonymously. The wind forced everyone to keep their hoods up, after all, no matter if they were stonecutters or priestesses. She passed between the makeshift homes that had popped up within the crumbling stone walls and kept going until she had topped the stairs to the southeastern tower.

The view was a gray one, full of clouds and a mist that shrouded the coast so that only the shapes of the treetops appeared, floating above the fog like the ghost of a forest. Atop the tower, the only noises were of wind and lapping water. Soothing sounds for an aching heart.

"It's lonely up here, isn't it?" A small, high voice asked from behind her.

Morgana looked back to find a girl standing by stairs. She was about twelve, with high cheekbones and fine, fair hair that blew out from under her hood. "I suppose it is," Morgana said.

The girl walked up to the wall next to Morgana and rose up to her tiptoes to look over the parapet. "I don't mind the loneliness. I means I can hear myself think for a little while. It's so noisy everywhere else."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yes," the girl said. "Sometimes I can hear the Goddess whispering to me, but only when it's very quiet. Otherwise it's like trying to listen to a song far away when someone's talking in your ear."

"It is something like that," Morgana said, though she never heard the Goddess except in the visions that rolled through her mind like a summer storm. "What does She tell you?"

"To be good and mind my father, mostly. But sometimes, when he's not sure of where we should go or what we should do next, She tells me what steps we should take." The girl brushed her hair out of her face before tugging her sleeves down to cover her hands. "She told me that we should come here. It was a good idea. We've been happier here than most other places."

"It's certainly been peaceful, hasn't it? Away from soldiers and the like," Morgana said. "What does your mother think of it here?"

"My mother's dead," the girl said, her tone betraying no sadness or anger. Just stating a fact.

"I'm sorry. What happened to her?" Morgana asked, expecting some tale of woe about soldiers coming in the night, followed by a noose or a pyre.

"She died of a fever five winters ago. It was very quick. She didn't suffer much. That's what my father said, anyway. I'm not sure if it's true, or if he just said it to make me feel better. She's gone either way. I miss her, but sometimes I think I'm starting to forget what she looks like." The girl looked up at Morgana, her cornflower blue eyes wide and curious. "What was your mother like?"

"I'm afraid I don't really remember my mother, either," Morgana admitted. "Just that she was very beautiful."

"Mine was, too. She had the prettiest hair, and she wore it in a long braid down her back," the girl said. "I wish she was still here. She used to teach me things. About herbs and flowers, mostly, but when we were alone she would teach me about the old ways. But I suppose I have a new teacher now that you're here, Lady Morgana."

A chill ran down Morgana's spine. "How do you know who I am?"

"The Goddess told me. She told me that my father and I should come here, and that you would keep us safe and teach me about magic and the old ways." The girl looked up at her. "You will teach me, won't you? Please say you will."

"I- I've never taught anyone before. I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do." It wasn't a very good answer, but it was the only one that Morgana had to give. A lie would have sent the girl away, but there was something about her that begged for the truth.

"Begin at the beginning," the girl said. "I'm sure the Goddess will tell you if you ask. All you have to do is find a quiet place and say the words. She'll have to tell you, or why am I here?"

"The Goddess does nothing by our command," Morgana said as if by rote, "it is we who follow Her orders."

The girl looked down at her feet, chastened. "I suppose that is my first lesson, then."

"It may be," Morgana whispered. She looked out over the waters and beyond that to the ghostly forest, listening to the wind as though the Goddess would whisper in her ear or reveal Her plans with a song on the air. But the skies remained gloomy, and there were no words on the wind, nor any other change to mark the Goddess's passage.

Except it started to rain.

"We should go inside where it's warm," Morgana said. She took one of the girls bare hands in one of her gloved ones. "I may not be able to teach you, but there's a fire, and some books to pass the time. What is your name?"

"Yvaine."

"That's a lovely name, Yvaine." Morgana cast a last glance over the parapet, and then down to the courtyard below where a few dozen cooking fires fought a losing battle against the mist and the gloom. It was a pathetic little realm she ruled over, and yet it was everything that she had managed to both win and keep since her exile from Camelot. It was _hers_ , and she didn't want to give it up.

But what would it mean if she abandoned the oath she had sworn so long ago, to not rest until she had claimed the throne of Camelot for the Goddess?

"I think you'll be a very good teacher, even if you're not sure where to start," Yvaine said. She leaned against Morgana as they started down the steps, borrowing the priestess's warmth even as she loaned Morgana some of her own. "I'm glad you decided not to go with him. It's not so frightening when you're here. It's nice to feel like we're somewhere safe at last."

A smile warred with tears on Morgana's face as she opened the door to the hallway leading to her chambers. "It is nice, isn't it? And I suppose that, if the Goddess said I am to instruct you, then that is what I will do. It will be a new beginning for both of us."


End file.
